


heatwave

by lilabut



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Established Relationship, F/M, Ficlet Collection, Implied Sexual Content, Light Angst, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-14
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-05-07 00:14:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14659173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilabut/pseuds/lilabut
Summary: He tries her name one more time, bare feet carrying him to the bathroom. Softly, he knocks.“Jyn, are you in there?”There’s no reply but she wouldn’t have gone out without telling him.“Did Leia drag you to that ice cream shop again?” he asks, leaning against the door frame. “You know what happened when you had that milkshake last month.”





	1. part I

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the May prompt 'Heat' over at therebelcaptainnetwork on Tumblr.
> 
> Here’s the thing: I meant to quit writing fanfic but then I watched this damn movie almost two years late, got hit by a wall of feels, and here we are. Great. Fantastic. Just what I had planned. Somebody save me from the pain.

Fuck, his neck hurts. Crouched over his laptop, fingers sore from typing this damn essay for the last three hours straight, Cassian can feel the tendons in his neck turning stiffer by the second. Just the slightest movement will cut through his muscles like a knife, he’s sure of it. 

It doesn’t help that his shirt is clinging to his back and sweat is pearling on his brows - just his luck that they get hit by a heatwave in the weeks leading up to his exam. Deep down, he thinks he should be used to it. After all, he spent his childhood playing in the blistering heat. Until the accident. Until he had to live with his uncle half a world away.

The thought brings a familiar wave of sadness that he swallows down.

The best he can do is just stay here, get the assignment done before it’s due on Monday and not move an inch.

That’s the plan.

Until the phone rings.

The old landline had come with the apartment, the shrill sound of it cutting through the paper thin walls. It rarely rings, and most likely it’s either Bodhi’s mother or their insufferable landlord.

“Jyn, can you get that?” Cassian calls, loud enough for Jyn to hear him wherever she disappeared to. He hasn’t seen her in an hour, figured she probably went out on the balcony to catch a smoke and chose to soak up some sunlight instead of enduring his sour mood. He can’t blame her for that - the exam at the end of the month has his nerves hanging on by a thread. He can’t be the best company right now.

Another ring.

And another.

“Jyn!”

There’s no reply, and Cassian groans in annoyance, muttering a curse under his breath as he shoves the laptop to the foot of the bed. Jyn’s bra is tangled among the sheets, a pair of dirty socks on the floor that aren’t even his.

As expected, his neck aches when he jumps off the bed, all the joints in his body cracking in a sick sort of symphony. He nearly slips on his way to the hallway, coming to a gasping halt in front of the phone just as it sputters out its last ring.

“Great,” he murmurs, craning his neck to relieve some tension. Through the open living room door, he has a clear view of the balcony - bathed in sunlight but empty. Just as empty as the ashtray on the small fold out table they managed to squeeze on there.

“Jyn?” he calls again, a little softer this time. One glance around the corner proves that the small kitchen area is empty too. Two empty bottles of orange juice sit abandoned on the counter which he does not remember buying the other day. 

He tries her name one more time, bare feet carrying him to the bathroom. Softly, he knocks.

“Jyn, are you in there?”

There’s no reply but she wouldn’t have gone out without telling him and he doubts she’d be hiding away in Kay or Bodhi’s rooms. She has to be in there.

“Did Leia drag you to that ice cream shop again?” he asks, leaning against the door frame. “You know what happened when you had that milkshake last month.”

Long story short, Jyn had occupied the bathroom all afternoon, and Bodhi had had no choice but to run to the Chinese restaurant across the street to use their bathroom – cursing lactose intolerance and all doctors that had failed to diagnose her until that moment.

“Kay got you that vegan stuff last week, remember?” Cassian reminds her, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Where _is_ he anyway?” he mutters to himself. One glance at his watch is enough to tell him that Kay’s study group should have ended half an hour ago. Kay is many things but never late.

Worry starts to flame in him when Jyn still doesn’t reply. She gets stubborn when she’s mad at him, sure. But he usually deserves it and as tense as he’s been the last two week, he doesn’t remember stepping out of line enough to prompt this. He knocks again, more insistent this time. “Jyn, are you okay?”

He still hasn’t forgotten the time she fell asleep in the bathtub last year, riddled with the flu and barely able to hold herself upright. Shit, he’d never been so panicked in his life when he pulled her out of the frigid water just in time.

“Jyn. _Jyn?_ ”

Slowly, he opens the door, for once glad for the broken lock. He chances a peek inside. She doesn’t mind sharing the bathroom with him on busy mornings, but he doesn’t want to intrude either.

She’s sitting on the edge of the bathtub, bare feet leaving prints on the cheap IKEA rug. Her head hangs low, strands of brown hair loose from the messy bun at the back, framing her face. A few hairs at the base of her skull are frizzy from the heat, and he knows by memory how soft they are to the touch.

Even from across the room he can see that she’s been crying.

“Jy-”

Her name turns to ash on his tongue when his eyes flicker down to her lap. To what she’s holding between two delicate, trembling fingers. He doesn’t need to ask what the white plastic stick is. And judging by the dried tear tracks on her flushed cheeks and the hollowness in her eyes when she looks up at him, he doesn’t need to ask what the small display says, either.

His breath catches in his throat, his chest suddenly too heavy, too constricted. Almost subconsciously, he takes the two strides across the bathroom, drops to his knees in front of her.

Inside, he’s free falling, sick and dizzy as Jyn shudders against him, trembling where her slightly sunburnt knees press into his chest.

One glance down and Cassian’s whole world spins, shifts, and he loses gravity.

**PREGNANT**


	2. part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn’t even really mean to write a follow-up, it just happened. I might be a lost cause. There might be more, I'm not sure yet. I do have some ideas...

Her tears have soaked through his shirt, leaving salty, white stains behind on the dark blue, worn fabric. As he runs his hand up and down her back, tracing the ridges of her spine, Cassian feels numb.  
  
Where Jyn shudders, he has gone rigid.  
  
Where she suppresses a tearful gasp, he has grown silent.  
  
The desire to comfort her is rooted so deeply that every single touch he offers feels natural. A kiss to the crown of her head, a ghost-like touch of his lips across her temple, his fingers entwining with her own, his chest rising and falling against her breasts with each breath, with each beat of their hearts.  
  
When it comes to comforting himself, however, he’s lost and empty-handed.  
  
“ _How?_ ” he asks eventually, his voice strangled as his hand stills against the small of her back. The stifling heat has her shirt drenched and clinging to her pale skin.  
  
They’ve never not been careful. Never allowed themselves to get too lost in the moment, too caught up in each other to risk… this.  
  
It makes no sense.  
  
“We always-,” he starts, eyes boring into the wall across the room, the once cream colored paint now faded and chipped.  
  
Jyn interrupts him.

“Leia’s birthday,” she murmurs into his chest, almost unintelligible before curling her fingers into his shirt, blunt nails dragging across his chest as she slowly lifts her head.  
  
He remembers that night - vividly. Would flush bright red just at the memory of it, of her, if he wasn’t so distraught. Of how they barely made it home before they fell into each other. All panting breaths that tasted of beer and rum and smoke, roaming hands that shook and trembled. Impatient. Desperate.  
  
There’s still a dent in the wall next to his door where he slammed his fist as he pushed into her, her legs tight around his hips, hands clutching his shoulders, lips sucking without mercy at his neck until they both fell apart.  
  
She left a bruise behind that night. Crescent-shaped marks on his back.  
  
Those remnants have long since faded.  
  
His brows furrow now, confusion mingling with fear and anger and an odd sense of excitement, a rush deep down that he can’t place and wishes would fade.  
  
Jyn seeks out his eyes for a moment, a deep sigh passing her lips.  
  
“I think the condom broke,” she confesses then with a broken voice, frayed around the edges. Almost tinged with a hint of regret.  
  
A new surge of panic floods Cassian’s veins and it’s instinctual when his hand finds her cheek, still damp with tears.  
  
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he whispers, trying to keep his voice soft because he’s not angry at her but _shit_ , he wishes she had told him.  
  
“I wasn’t sure,” she explains, the tears in her eyes turning hard as glass and her body twisting away from his. “I didn’t want you to freak out, all right? It was- I don’t know!“  
  
In an instant, she’s out of his arms and on the edge of the bed. Despite the heat, Cassian suddenly feels a chill running down his spine.  
  
"I didn’t mean it like that,” he reassures her as softly as he can manage right now. Slowly, cautiously as if he’s approaching a wild animal, he scoots over to kneel behind her. “I’m not angry.”  
  
“I am,” Jyn hisses, shrugging off his hand when he rests it on her bare shoulder.  
  
He drops his hand.  
  
“How could this-” Jyn mutters, more to herself than to him, Cassian thinks. She’s shaking her head, sucking in sharp breaths after each shuddering exhale that sends tremors through her entire body. “How could we let this happen?”  
  
He doesn’t answer, knows that there is nothing he can say right now that would sound right. And fuck if he has any clue what to say. Jyn might be crumbling, but as much as he tries to keep a calm composure, he’s all but falling apart inside.  
  
It’s too much, too soon, too unexpected.  
  
“I can’t-,” she murmurs, fingers curling almost violently into the tangled sheets. “I can’t, this isn’t-”  
  
Whatever anger had simmered in her - directed at herself or him or the life they created - deflates right in front of him and when he rests his chin on her shoulder and his hands on top of her own, she leans back into him without a fight.  
  
“Breathe,” he whispers, brushing his thumb back and forth over her knuckles. His eyes glance down. Catching sight of a sliver of bare skin where her tank top has ridden up her stomach.  
  
Somehow, he can’t seem to look away.  
  
“I can’t do this, Cassian,” she chokes, burying her face against the slope of his neck where his pulse thrashes. “I can’t.”  
  
The anguish in her trembling voice finally, _finally_ breaks him. When he tastes the salt of his own tears on his lips, he pulls her closer, seeks comfort in her but finds none. He holds her, still. Pulls her into him until eventually, they sink into the bed together.  
  
Exhausted, drained.  
  
He doesn’t know how or when, but Cassian’s hand finds its way to the flat plane of Jyn’s stomach. It rests there, warm and almost innocent.  
  
Much to his surprise, it doesn’t feel wrong.


	3. part III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *waves shyly*
> 
> So, it's been a while. This is what happens when I start multi-chapters that were not meant to be multi-chapters. Life is busy at the moment and I am wrapping up an AU multi-chapter that I'll start posting in a few weeks. But I hope to be able to dedicate some time to this little story from now on.

She's avoiding him.

Friday comes and goes.

Saturday.

Sunday.

He hardly sees a glimpse of her. They don't talk, and at night she sleeps with a foot of space between them.

On Monday, he hands in the paper and he knows it's shit, but for the first time ever he doesn't _give_ a shit. What a fool he'd been believing this was something to worry about. Suddenly, there's a real concern, a real decision to make that will shape their lives forever.

Except he doesn't know if Jyn has already made that choice for them.  


 

“Are you ill?”

Kay's question startles Cassian and he shudders, looking up from the book he's been blankly staring at for the last ten minutes.

“What?”

Kay's brows lift, a sure sign that he's suspicious of something. His hand is curled around a cup of pitch black espresso, the other flat on a folder full of research.

“I think you might be ill,” he states, lacking all sounds of actual concern. “You're awfully pale compared to your usual complexion and you are even more distracted than you usually are.”

“I'm not distracted,” Cassian insists, already irritated.

Kay scoffs.

“You are, in fact, quite frequently distracted, and most of the time the reason somehow involves Jyn. Which leads me to my second deduction that the two of you have had an argument,” Kay explains, sounding as clinical and monotonous as always.

With a sigh, Cassian reaches for his own coffee, all the cream on top long melted away.

“Listen, Sherlock,” he says, “it's none of your business.”

Kay shrugs.

“I would never want it to be my business. But I think the lack of sexual intercourse might be a factor to your declining mood and concentration and I would suggest-”

“Will you stop?”

“It’s just a suggestion,” Kay says, but he holds up his hands in defeat and is quiet after that.

 

He's been in the cereal aisle for at least five minutes, staring at the colorful boxes. Cinnamon Crunch, Honey Pops, five different flavors of Cheerios and something with Oreos in it.

He picks it up, knowing that Jyn would love it. But in that same instant he remembers that everything is falling apart and he puts the box back on the shelf.

It's overpriced anyway.

They might need all their saved money soon.

No matter what decision she makes.

“Cassian!”

_Fuck._

His head drops down to the mostly empty shopping cart - just apples, dish soap and toilet paper - and his hands curl tightly around the handle.

Leia rushes towards him in a floor length, white summer dress, her hair rolled into a bun at the back of her head, a basket dangling from her arm full of fruit and vegetables.

“Hey,” he mutters, forcing a smile.

Leia only nods.

“Is Jyn all right?” she asks, the genuine concern in her eyes as sharp as knives. “She hasn't texted me back all weekend and her phone goes straight to voicemail.”

_Shit._

She didn't tell Leia.

He was sure she would talk to Leia about it.

If she hasn't even told her best friend…

“She's fine,” he replies, grinding his teeth at how unconvincing he sounds. Almost instantly, Leia frowns at him.

“Did you fuck up?” she asks, taking a step closer until the tips of her sandals are just an inch away from the toe of his sneaker. “Cause I like you, Andor, but if you hurt her-"

“Everything is fine,” Cassian lies, desperate to get away. He can't possibly tell her the truth, all he can do is run. “It's gonna be fine.”

“Wha-"

“I have to go, sorry,” he murmurs, pushing past Leia with quick steps.

She doesn't follow him, and he returns home, sweaty and out of breath, with barely half the items on the shopping list.

  


He slams his laptop shut, eyes burning from the persistent blue light. The rest of the room is bathed in darkness and he leans over to switch on the lamp on the bedside table. It flickers a little, needs to be replaced.

With a sigh, he watches a fly buzzing against the window over his desk, again and again. It's trapped with no way out. His legs burn as he pushes himself off the bed. Two strides and he's at the window, pulling it open and watching the fly escape.

The sound of the door opening makes his heart skip a beat. Softly, it shuts and he waits.

“You should close that,” Jyn says, and when he looks over his shoulder she's pointing at the window. “I don't want mosquito bites all over me tomorrow morning.”

She's already dressed for bed, her hair open and cascading down her shoulders - bare except for the thin straps of her shirt. Legs bare, pale in the dim light.

He nods and shuts the window.

It's the most she has said to him in three days.

“Bathroom free?” he asks, grabbing a fresh towel from the shelf on the far wall before crossing the room. Jyn is still immobile, bare feet planted firmly on the scratchy rug. She has painted her nails, a shade of red that reminds him of a field of poppies. And _shit_ , she smells good, he realizes when he tries to walk past her to the door.

“Wait,” she says softly, her hand resting on his arm and freezing him in place. Looking up at him through her lashes, the sight of her fills him with hope and sorrow alike. “Can we talk?”


End file.
